Color Me Undead
by Mawsh
Summary: This is Resident Evil if it took place in a 1950s noir setting. Expect to see your favorite characters, but in surprising ways! People are turning up dead in Raccoon City. Except… they aren't staying dead.


(I don't own Resident Evil.)

Color Me Undead

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**1.**

The rain came to Raccoon City like it always did in the fall: out of nowhere. The dark clouds seemed to creep up on the old city unexpectedly, blotting out the midday sun and coating the streets in sheets of heavy rain that forced its residents to take shelter where they could, the occasional umbrella dotting the dark gray city with splashes of color.

From his old, stuffy office on Flower St. Chris Redfield had a good view of, well, absolutely nothing. Still, for a good five minutes he stood there with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, looking down at the empty street below and the rain that pounded it mercilessly.

Chris Redfield was a detective in his early 30s with a mean look set in his face that belied his youth and made him appear much older than he should have. His eyes were an icy blue and were contrasted nicely against the whites of his eyes that were nestled right behind a furrowed brow and a nose that curved slightly downward. His hair was cut short and a dark mahogany color, his mouth was perfectly flat and curved neither upwards or downwards. Two days worth of stubble shaded his slightly square jaw.

The front door of his office opened with a quiet click that was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain. Chris didn't need to turn to see who it was, but did so anyway.

"Yes, Rebecca?"

Rebecca Chambers was a young girl and a bit of a tomboy. Short, dark hair ended in bangs that brushed gently against the perfect skin of her face as she moved, her eyes bright with innocence and a vibrant green against the dark walls of Chris Redfield's office. She wore a pale green dress that hugged her in all the right places.

She shut the door behind her and nodded at him shyly. "Ah, there's someone here to see you Mr. Redfield."

Redfield smirked in spite of himself, waving at Rebecca as he pulled his chair out from his desk and sank in it. "Mr. Redfield? Come on, sugar, do I look like the business type?"

Rebecca bit her lip and shook her head. "No, sir!"

"All right then, Chris will do just fine."

"Ah," Rebecca seemed at a loss for words for a moment, but recovered quickly. "No Problem Mr. ah… I mean Chris."

Redfield reached for a small drawer on the left hand side of his desk. The drawer opened smoothly and was mostly empty save for a book of matches. He grabbed the matches and lit one.

"So, is it a customer?" Chris asked, lighting his cigarette and taking a pull from it.

"I don't think so." She looked over her shoulder, as if whoever it was could see through walls. "He looks like a police officer."

"Well damn." A cloud of smoke drifted lazily above Redfield's head. "Did you tell him I wasn't in?"

"I tried, but he wouldn't listen." She said. "He told me he knew better than that."

Redfield clicked his tongue. "It's Captain Wesker, isn't it?"

"I think so."

"All right, all right." Redfield waved Rebecca away. "Let him in, but make sure he knows I'm not pleased about it."

The door to Redfield's office opened again and Captain Wesker stepped inside, obviously not willing to wait for Rebecca to show him in. He gave Rebecca a curt nod and showed her the door with an air of superiority that hadn't been earned. "If you'll excuse us, Ms. Chambers."

"Ah, all right." Rebecca stepped outside, a little surprised with the Captain's attitude and Wesker promptly closed the door behind her.

"I'd stand," Redfield took the cigarette out of his mouth, and flicked the ashes into the tray. "but I'd say you didn't deserve it."

Captain Wesker smiled devilishly and pulled the officer's hat off his head, revealing pale blond hair that was slicked back and probably took more time to maintain than Rebecca took with her hair. He wore a pair of dark, round shades that denied anyone from seeing his eyes and did a good job of putting up a barrier between himself and others. Redfield never knew how the bastard could see out of them, but he never cared enough to ask.

Wesker sat across from Redfield and unceremoniously dropped the hat on his desk. "Good to see you, too, Mr. Redfield."

Redfield smiled mockingly. "What brings you down from your ivory tower to the common man on Flower Street?"

The Captain laughed but it sounded more like an angry, short bark. "I assure you, Mr. Redfield, I wouldn't grace you with my presence unless it was important."

Redfield leaned back in his chair, already growing weary of the good Captain's presence. He had a feeling that whatever it was that brought Wesker here would result in a huge headache for him, one way or another.

Wesker dug a thick pair of fingers into the top pocket on his policeman's uniform and withdrew a folded piece of paper. Holding the slip of paper between his fingers, he flicked it in Redfield's direction. "We had a corpse on French near the college."

The paper fell on Redfield's side of the desk and he snatched it in his hand but he did not look at it or open it. "That's great. What do you want me to do about it? Send one of your boys over there."

Wesker shook his head. "You didn't listen to me, Redfield. I said we _had _a corpse on French. It isn't there anymore."

There was a pause from Redfield. He furrowed his brow and, in spite of himself, found himself generally interested with Wesker's words. "What do you mean _had_?"

"Exactly how it sounds. He had a corpse and it's not there anymore."

Redfield put the paper down and smiled without showing any teeth. "Are you saying it just got up and _walked off_?"

Despite the shades, Redfield could tell Captain Wesker was annoyed. "I'm saying someone stole the body."

"The killer?"

Wesker shook his head. "Doesn't make sense. If it was the killer then why leave the body on a public street, only to collect it _after _the police went over it for evidence?"

"Seems like he left it as a way to taunt you and your men." Redfield smirked. "Figure maybe he realized how incompetent you all were and left it long enough so you could collect evidence you'd never be able to piece together."

Wesker smiled this time, but there was no happiness on his face. "Oh, you seem to know a lot about how a killer thinks. May I ask where you were last night around 10pm, the suggested time of death?"

Redfield leaned to the side until he had a clear view of the door behind Wesker's head. He then called out loud. "Rebecca can you come in here, please?"

There was a second of silence before the door opened slowly and Rebecca poked her head in. Redfield waved her in, and she entered all the way. Wesker turned to face her, unsure of what Redfield was doing.

"Rebecca," Redfield began. "the Captain would like to know where I was last night around 10pm."

Rebecca turned to Wesker. "Mr. Redfield was at his desk, unconscious, and holding a bottle of whiskey."

Redfield nodded. "Thank you, Rebecca. That'll be all."

Once Rebecca had exited Redfield turned back to Wesker and grinned. "Sounds like an airtight alibi to me."

Wesker ignored Redfield and stood from his chair. "I need you to look into who would take the body and why, and I don't need your half-baked theories, either. I want solid fact, you hear me?"

"And why can't your men do this, again?" Redfield asked, his face stoic.

"We're taxed as it is, we don't have the time or resources to go check into the murder _and _a potential body snatcher." Wesker grabbed his hat from the desk. "If it turns out they are one in the same, fine, but I need facts first."

Wesker was ready to turn to the door but Redfield held up a hand to stop him. "Remind me again why I'm doing this for you?"

Wesker's lips parted, exposing his white teeth like a dog barring it's fangs. "I don't think I need to remind you _why _you're doing this for me, Redfield, just do it."

Redfield just shook his head. Wesker laughed once, tipped his hat in a mocking gesture and put it back on his head. The Captain put his hand on the doorknob and opened the door, following it out into the outer office but not yet closing it. He turned back to Redfield again. "I like your new girl, Redfield. She looks like a keeper."

Wesker closed the door and was gone.

Redfield snuffed out his cigarette while a stream of curses directed at Wesker were said under his breath. He reached into another drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass, putting them on the desk top with a heavy thud.

As he was pouring his shot Rebecca found her way back into the office and took a seat where Wesker had been sitting a moment ago. She smoothed down her dress and crossed her legs as Redfield knocked back the drink and made a grunting noise.

"So what did Captain Wesker want?" Rebecca asked, giving Redfield a peculiar look as he poured more liquor into the glass. "And is he always that… abrasive?"

Redfield held the drink tightly in his fingers, took a glance over at Rebecca, and downed the shot, feeling the liquid's burn all the way down. He focused on the burn and held it in his mind before responding. "Captain Wesker is, and always has been, a bottle of sunshine."

Redfield was in the process of pouring himself a third drink, but Rebecca had leaned over and put a small hand on his wrist to stop him from doing so. "You're gonna kill yourself drinking like that."

Redfield shot her an icy look, but softened when he saw the concern in her face. He put the glass and the bottle away. "This city is gonna kill me before the alcohol will."

"Is there a reason why you drink like that?" Rebecca sat back in her chair. "Is something the matter?"

"I wish." Redfield laughed sarcastically, doing so to conceal his lie. "Then maybe I'd have an excuse, darling."

"No more drinking like this." She wagged a finger at Redfield. "You almost scared me half to death last night, passed out on your desk."

"What are you, my mother?"

Rebecca glared at him, and Redfield eased up in response.

"All right, I'll take it easy." He winked. "For you."

Rebecca blushed but said nothing in response. She cleared her throat. "So you never answered me, what did the Captain want?"

Redfield regarded the paper at the corner of his desk and picked it up, he spoke to her as he unfolded it. "Oh, the usual. Corpse on French Street disappears and the Captain comes runnin' to me because him and his boys are too dense to figure it out."

Rebecca blinked. "That's the usual? Do dead bodies usually disappear like that?"

He held the unfolded paper in his hands and glanced at Rebecca over the top of it. "It was a joke, sweetheart. Wesker comes to bother me once in a while when he needs me. This one looks like it has potential to be something else altogether, though."

She motioned to the paper Redfield was holding. "What's that?"

"Hmm." Redfield scanned the page. "Looks like a list of details concerning the body."

"What's it say?"

"It says…" Redfield was about to read aloud, but stopped when he saw something that seemed to disturb him at the bottom of the page.

"Chris?" Rebecca asked. "What's the matter?"

Redfield shook his head. "The description of the body. The cause of death…"

He put the paper down and looked across the desk at Rebecca, the expression on his face was grave and Rebecca put a hand over her mouth in response. She looked like she was expecting to hear something terrible.

Redfield would not disappoint her.

"The body was partially _eaten alive._ But that's not all… the teeth marks on the body…" He looked down at the paper on the desk between them. "…they belonged to a human."

The long silence that crept between them was almost deafening.

It looked like Chris Redfield was in for a hell of a week.

Literally.

* * *

To Be Continued.


End file.
